


Muddy Kisses

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Airplane Crash, Cabin, Gen, Kisses, Mud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:34:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playful story between Meg and Ben. Short read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muddy Kisses

_**Somewhere between Chicago and Ottawa ….** _

“Fraser, we've been walking in these woods for two days, are you certain you know where we are?” Meg asked mid-morning the second day after the place crash.

“I'm positive, Sir.” The Mountie marched on, not looking back at his superior officer.

“And you're certain because?” Meg had to double her pace to keep up with Fraser's steady gait.

“Having read my father's journal entries about Swift's diamond mine, I feel certain this river will lead us to one of the abandoned mines where we will surely pick up a road taking us to the nearest settlement.”

 _“I'm never going to get out of these woods alive.”_ Meg thought to herself as she scrambled up the side of a hill behind Fraser. _“But at least I have a nice rear view as I walk to my doom.”_ She amended, glad he'd worn his Carhart coat and jeans on the flight to Ottawa.

“Ah ha!” Fraser stopped abruptly, nearly sending Meg rolling down the hill backwards.

“What?!” she demanded, struggling to see what he saw as she came to the top of the hill.

“The mining camp.” Fraser pointed to a log cabin lying in a valley below them. A few yards behind it lay the mouth of the mine, gaping like a carved pumpkin.

“We can take shelter in the cabin for the night, I'll scout around tomorrow for a trail out of here.” Fraser said, beginning his descent. Meg stood studying the one room structure. It looked like a Thomas Kincaid painting from her vantage point, but she wasn't naive enough to think it looked that good on the inside.

Fraser was half way down the hill when he turned to see Meg studying the valley. She'd been following him for two days without holding him up or complaining about walking. She'd only complained about the food. Fraser couldn't blame her there.

“Are you alright, Sir?” He asked when he saw the distracted expression on her face.

“I'm fine, Constable.” Meg sighed before setting off after him.

_**DSDSDS**_

Storms had long ago broken the lead glass panes out of the windows. One of the shutters on the left side hung on one hinge. Two sandstone rocks the size of car hoods made the steps up to the door of the small cabin.

“Fraser this looks unsafe, the floor is probably rotten and the roof is caving in.” Meg looked at the cabin with a skeptical brow raised.

“On the contrary, Sir, the cabin floor is quite sturdy and the roof is intact, protected by these wonderful evergreens.” The Mountie pointed to a stand of pine standing silent sentry behind the cabin. Fraser stepped into the cabin, excitement shining in his green eyes.

“This will do nicely, the fire place is still intact.” He popped his head out the front door after looking around.

“Great!” Meg said sarcastically. She stepped into the single room, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Deer antlers hung over the fireplace. A rough, hand hewn table stood to the right and a wooden cot frame to the left. On the dirt floor were the pieces of a tin lantern's glass globe.

“I can catch fish in the river for dinner.” Fraser offered.

“This is your idea of fun, isn't it?” Meg asked, still looking around. She could see him living here without electricity or company quite easily, content to live a century behind the times.

“Yes.” He answered apologetically.

“I suppose we need to gather firewood and water for the night.” Meg laid down her pack before heading for the door. Fraser shucked his pack as well and followed. They both headed for the river at the other end of the valley. A healthy, spring rain paired with the spring thaw had flooded the river, causing the banks to soften in place. Mud slides had turned the rushing water a dirty, tan color. Meg and Fraser walked up to the flowing water. Meg saw the way he toyed with his eye tooth, thinking. She loved and hated it when he did that. She loved it's subtle sexiness, kissableness and hated that she couldn't kiss him when she saw the pink tip of his tongue dart out.

“I suppose I'll have to find a place up stream.” Fraser studied the racing water, his boots sucking and slurping in the mud under his feet. Meg was glad she only had to gather firewood.

Fraser began to step back from the river bank. With one misplaced step, his feet flew out from beneath him. As Meg watched helplessly, he landed on his back. Fraser laid there a minute, trying to catch his breath and figure out why he was looking up at the sky. Overhead, a clear, blue sky full of dumpling clouds floated past. Meg leaned over, watching him blink quickly.

“Are you alright, Fraser?” She asked, a laugh aching to be let out of her throat.

“Yes, I think so.” He slowly sat up. For a minute Fraser took stock. Meg smiled, her eyes still merry. He tried to get up but only managed to wallow, his Stetson lying on the grass, out of the mud and pristinely clean. Meg died laughing, standing doubled over.

“You could help.” Fraser said, mud splattered up one side of his face.

“You're always so sure footed, I never expected you to fall like that.” She sputtered, carefully edging toward him.

 _“Ha, ha!”_ he thought to himself. Meg offered him her hand, trying to stay clear of the mud wallow. Fraser scrambled to one knee before he took her hand. Meg dug her heels in to help pull him up. Fraser's feet flew out again, dumping him face first into the sucking slime. Meg landed on his back, knocking the breath out of him.

“You did that on purpose.” Meg declared, lying on her stomach in the mud. Fraser rolled over onto his back, coughing to regain his breath.

“I did not!” He stated flatly. They both sat up, covered in mud and out of breath.

“I say you did, Constable.” Meg started to point, laying it off to him, but a glob of mud flung off of her finger into his face with a sticky SMACK sound. He turned to her, annoyance in his eyes. Meg covered her mouth with one hand, laughing again.

“It was an accident, Fraser.” She saw a devilish twinkle in his eye and a smile forming. He had scooped up a handful of mud and flung it overhanded at her. It splattered across her forehead and slid down her face. Meg heard him chuckle as she dug mud out of her eyes.

“Oh, now you've done it, Fraser!” She took a scoop of mud and rolled toward him on her knees as he tried to squirm away. Meg stuffed it down his shirt.

“Oooh, that's cold.” Fraser shuddered, turning back to her. It was his turn. Scooping up another handful of the slimy mud, he went after her. Meg protested, throwing up her hands.

“Remember, I'm your commanding officer!” She was breathless with laughter. Fraser smeared the mud in her hair and down her neck.

“Hey! No fair!” Meg squealed like teenage girl as she fell backwards, into the mud. Fraser followed her to the ground, using both hands to smear mud in her hair. He laughed as she tried to push him off. “You bully!” Meg began trying to tickle him off of her, but he took her by the wrists just enough that she couldn't get to him. Breathlessly, she quit. “Truce?” She huffed and puffed as the Mountie leaned over her, straddling her.

“Truce,” He nodded, releasing her wrists. Meg peered up at him, still laughing at the thought of him flat of his back in the mud. Fraser turned his head to the side, staring at her quizzically. He bit his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue worrying his eye tooth. Meg couldn't help herself, she took him by the shirt front and pulled him closer. Their lips met roughly. Together they moved to the ground. Meg tasted gritty dirt but she felt him slip his tongue past her lips. She wasn't sure at first, it was so subtle. The second time was more definitive. Damn!, he could kiss. Meg felt the slight press of his chest against hers. She slid her hands into his mud covered hair as she kissed the Mountie, wishing it would never quit.

He didn't quit, Fraser simply moved his kisses to her neck, moving to her collar bone slowly. Meg wrapped her fingers in his flannel shirt, breathless, but for a different reason this time. A thousand thoughts chased each other through her mind; how good he always smelled, and how she wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to name a few.

“Fraser.” She breathed as her fingertips felt the tight skin over the muscles of his back. His hand tightened on her hip when he felt her fingernails lightly grazing his spine. Meg felt as much as heard a rumbling growl reverberate from deep within the Mountie.

“Oh dear.” she heard him mutter. Meg opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them. Reluctantly, Ben pushed himself off of her, sitting back on his heels, staring at the mud between his knees. Meg felt awkward and unsure of herself.

“My apologies, I behaved dreadfully.” he spoke after a moment. _“and irresponsibly, rashly, licentiously, promiscuously, and wantonly.”_ Fraser added mentally. He couldn't look her in the eye. He could still feel her fingers knotted in his hair and taste her skin on his tongue. It didn't surprise him that his body had reacted of it's own accord, Meg Thatcher was a young, beautiful woman. What did surprise the Mountie was how much he'd enjoyed it. That shamed him.

“I'm to blame as well, Fraser.” Meg sat up, pulling her knees against her chest. He looked at her after a long moment. His head and his heart warred. Ben had been raised to always have control of himself, but he also knew that Meg hadn't objected to his kisses. Most of all, Ben felt confused about his feelings for her. Was it love, lust or loneliness?

Meg hated the indecision and self-loathing she saw on Ben's features. She wanted to see him smile and hear his laugh again.

“I'm going to gather firewood for the night.” Meg scooted until she was clear of the mud wallow, then she stood up. She left Fraser alone with his thoughts. He watched her walk away.

_**DSDSDS** _

Meg had gathered wood for the night and found a stew pot near the side of the cabin. She scrubbed it out as best she could with sand until it shone then she boiled it on a cast iron spider over the fire. The lady Mountie also found a couple tin plates and buckets near the mine entrance. There were bits and pieces of equipment strewn all over the site.

Fraser came in just before dark; fish on a line in one hand and roots and berries in his Stetson in the other. He looked around the cabin, noting the change. Meg had nailed the window shutters closed and swept the floor with a cedar limb. All-in-all, it was a snug place to pass the night.

“You've done an excellent job of tidying up.” He complimented her quietly.

“Thank you.” Meg ran her fingers through her freshly washed hair. She'd taken a wash cloth bath in hot water after cleaning the stew pot and changed clothes.

“I have two buckets of water for you to clean up in.” She gestured to two, wooden buckets waiting by the fire.

“Ah, thank you kindly.” He gave her a tentative smile. “I suppose I should wash, I must smell, shoo, atrocious.” He handed Meg the fish and his Stetson before stepping outside to take off his muddy boots and flannel shirt. Meg watched him, wishing she could touch his solid body again. With a nod, Fraser took the buckets outside, leaving Meg staring dreamily after him.

Ben leaned against the outside cabin wall to take off his mud crusted jeans. He smelled of sweat and fishy, river mud. He washed from one bucket and rinsed off in the other. Afterward he realized he hadn't brought a change of clothes outside with him.

“Could you please hand me the blanket.” Ben called as he stood in his boxers outside the cabin door.

“Fraser, I've seen you in your red long johns before, come inside.” Meg called back.

“Can you hand me the blanket, _please?_ ” Ben repeated more emphatically.

“Oh my!” Meg exclaimed, putting one hand over her mouth when she realized Fraser was less than properly clothed.

“Just a minute.” She grabbed the only blanket they had between them and handed it out the front door.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser said as he wrapped it around himself.

“You're welcome, Fraser.” Meg replied, tending to the fire so her back was toward him. Quickly, the Mountie pulled a fresh pair of jeans out of his ruck sack and slid them on beneath the blanket.

“There we go.” He gave a satisfied clap after he slid a long sleeve pullover on.

_**DSDSDS** _

The pair ate in silence, Fraser seated at the table on an overturned bucket and Meg on a three cornered stool she'd found. The setting sun had begun it's rest as they finished their fish. Meg tried but failed to stifle a yawn as she laid their plates in one of the water buckets to wash the next morning for breakfast. During the afternoon dark clouds had moved in and a cool, creeping chill hung around the cabin.

“It's getting windy outside.” Meg pulled on her jacket as she sat on the sandstone that had been laid for the hearth.

“It will most likely rain tonight.” Fraser looked up at the roof overhead, praying that the stand of pines around them protected them from the rain and wind.

“We should get some sleep.” Meg stood up and took the sleeping bag Fraser had insisted she take the night before when they'd made camp in a cave.

“Yes, tomorrow will be a long, wet day.” He took the blanket and using his pack as a pillow, settled down by the fire, wrapped in his Carhart coat. Meg laid the sleeping bag on the cot frame she'd reinforced with extra planking. It was a hard way to sleep but there wasn't any choice. The Lady Mountie used her soft sided overnight bag as a pillow and settled down for a few hours sleep.

_**Two AM …** _

CRASH! Meg felt the cabin shake as the storm hit with thunder and lightning. She sat bolt upright in bed, a startled whimper in her throat.

“Fraser” She whispered harshly. The Mountie was sleeping soundly on the warm hearth. Meg shook her head and tried to settle down again.

DRIP! Ten minutes later the lady Mountie felt the first drop of water hit her face. She got up and moved the cot.

TRICKLE! Her second choice was just as leaky. Meg sighed, irritation beginning to boil. Again, she moved the cot.

SPLAT! A huge drop of water washed Meg's face when she finally laid down in her third choice.

“Fraser, I told you this cabin roof was leaky.” Meg's voice brought him back to life.

“It's nice and dry here.” He sat up, looking around in the small circle of light around the hearth.

“Then scoot over.” Meg stood with her overnight bag in one hand and the sleeping bag in the other. Fraser adjusted his position and helped her spread the sleeping bag. She would get the head of the bag where she wanted it and he would pull it down at the foot. After the third time doing this, Meg glared at him.

“Fraser, I've got this, alright.” She said in her 'Inspector' tone of voice.

“Understood.” He nodded and returned to his pack by the fire.

_**2:45 AM ….** _

“Fraser, the fire went out.” Meg said as she lay with her back to him.

“Yes, so it has.” He responded quietly, not moving. The rain beat on the roof as if trying to cave it in.

“Aren't you going to do anything about it?” Meg demanded, turning onto her back.

“The rain put the fire out, it won't burn now without an accellerent.” He responded, still not moving.

“Well I'm cold.” Meg huffed. Her nose had been cold for over an hour and she was shivering.

“I'm afraid you'd find either of the options that spring to mind unacceptable.” The Mountie countered. Ben thought back to what had happened between them in the mud wallow. He ached to feel her in his arms again. Fraser felt it physically as much as he felt hunger or the need to sneeze.

“We are two, career, RCMP officers, Fraser, I think we can maintain our professionalism.” Meg's voice sounded forced, it also sounded like she were shivering uncontrollably. Fraser didn't know how, it was a sleeping bag designed for extreme temperatures. He sat up and tried to stoke the fire. It caught a bit when he threw a dry piece of pine in and re-lit it. Meg had turned over to face the fire when he finished.

“Is it me or is it very cold in the cabin?” Meg asked, pulling one of Fraser's flannel shirts up around her that she'd borrowed before turning in for the night. Ben scooted over to take a closer look at her. Meg could see the concern in his eyes.

*“Let's spread the sleeping bag before the fire.” He tugged on the zipper, throwing the front half of it back. Meg saw her breath in the chilly air of the cabin. Together, they laid the thick sleeping bag on the warm, sandstone hearth. Fraser shucked out of his Carhart coat and laid over Meg as she lay facing the fire. He then settled down behind her and spread the blanket out for the both of them.

“Why did you do that?” Meg asked over her shoulder.

“What?” Ben replied, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Put your coat over me.” Meg turned a bit more, their bodies nearly touching.

“You indicated that you were cold.” The Mountie answered, confused. Meg said one thing then asked a silly question about it.

“I did.” She said as she leaned toward the dancing fire. Ben took a deep breath and tried to get back to sleep.

Meg could still feel Ben's warmth in the flannel lining of the canvas and cloth coat. She could smell his good, soapy scent. It was almost as good as being curled up in his arms. The lady Mountie felt his breath on the back of her neck as he leaned forward slightly. Intoxicated by his nearness, Meg couldn't get back to sleep. What had happened that afternoon kept running through her mind. She wondered why Ben had stopped kissing her as they played in the mud. It had been evident that he wanted her, wanted to kiss her. Meg was certain the heat she'd felt between them had been mutual. She wondered what would have happened if Ben hadn't pulled himself away.

“Are you warm enough?” His sleepy, husky voice interrupted Meg's thoughts.

“Yes, thank you.” She answered quickly, as if he could read her thoughts.

“Good.” Meg felt Fraser shift his weight, curling into more of a ball. She wondered if she'd find his eyes open should she turn over onto her other side.

 _“Not likely.”_ Meg sighed, thinking to herself. What did he have to stay awake for? Ben squirmed a bit, trying to get his arms into a position that they wouldn't fall asleep. He brushed Meg's back.

“Sorry.” He said, leaning back and tucking his arm against his chest.

“Lay your arm over me, over the coat.” Meg suggested. It wouldn't do to have him moving about behind her if either of them were going to sleep. Timidly, Ben laid his arm over her, readjusting his weight as they lay more comfortably. Meg felt it's weight despite the coat between them. Ten minutes later he was asleep.

 _“If only this were under different circumstances.”_ Meg let out a tired, jagged breath as she tried to think of something else to get to sleep.

_**Sunrise ….** _

“Stop, Fraser, that tickles.” Meg giggled, squirming beneath his arm. The warm, wet kisses continued.

“It isn't me.” She heard him speak. Meg's eyes flew open. She looked up to see a long legged coon dog staring down at her. The lady Mountie let out a startled yelp. Sitting up, she saw the glint of amusement in Ben's face as he took the dog by the collar.

“Hello, boy.” He greeted the rangy canine. Meg pulled the coat around her and scooted farther away from the nosy animal. He had soft, curious eyes and long, droopy ears the color of wet, fall leaves. The animal pulled away from Fraser when it heard a sharp whistle from outside.

“Hello, the cabin!” A deep, male voice called from outside. Fraser stood up and went to the front door.

“Who is it, Fraser?” Meg stood too, letting him take the lead.

“It appears to be a hunter.” He guessed from the backpack and double barrel shot gun over the older man's shoulder.

“Ah, we've been rescued.” Meg beamed, still wrapped up in Fraser's coat and flannel shirt. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, noting the red and black plaid beneath her chin as she looked up at him. Ben was almost sad to leave the cabin and the warm cocoon of the hearth they'd shared.

Meg saw the sadness in his eyes as he studied her intently. What was it he regretted, she wondered. Had she done something to hurt him? The lady Mountie just didn't know.

“Hello there.” Fraser said as the visitor came closer. He was a man in his mid-fifties with shining blue eyes and a ready smile.

“Morning, I was out hunting and saw the smoke from the chimney. This place has been abandoned as long as I can remember.” He hitched a thumb to indicate the log cabin. “I'm Carl, by the way.” The older man put his hand out to shake Meg's hand first.

“Inspector Margaret Thatcher, RCMP, currently assigned as Liaison Officer with the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, Illinois.” Meg answered shaking his hand politely. He lifted one graying brow.

“That's a mouthful.” He chuckled, turning to Fraser.

“Constable Benton Fraser, also RCMP, currently ….” Meg elbowed him in the side.

“He's my junior officer.” She finished quickly.

“I'm just Carly, retired school teacher.” The man shrugged. “How did you two wind up at Swift's diamond mine?”

“We were aboard a light aircraft that crashed, killing the pilot.” Fraser answered, his hands clasped behind his back. “The Inspector and I made our way here on foot.”

“How far is it to the nearest town or settlement?” Meg asked, eager to have a proper breakfast and a large cup of coffee.

“It's about twenty miles from here, but my Jeep is a few miles that way.” Carl hitched his thumb east.

“Would you mind taking us to the nearest town?” Meg stepped forward, her dark eyes shining.

“Alright, but it's a rough hike.” Both Mounties gave him matching, unamused expressions.

“Get your gear.” Carl shrugged.

“Just a moment.” Meg turned to the sleeping bag lying on the hearth and the few things they had on the table.

“Have a seat.” Fraser offered him the three legged stool. The dog sat down beside the table, keenly watching the Canadians move about the small cabin. Fifteen minutes later Fraser had doused the fire and Meg had packed the place up. The three set out for Carl's vehicle a moment later. Fraser closed the cabin door behind them. When they got to the top of the ridge, the Mountie took a last look back, wishing he could re-live the last twenty-four hours with Meg.

_**Baker's Valley ….** _

“I'm sorry but our little village is celebrating Founder's Day this week, I'm afraid you won't find much help this weekend.” Carl pulled into the local sheriff's department.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser grabbed their things out of the Jeep, opening Meg's door simultaneously.

“Yes, thank you very much, Carl.” Meg gave him a grateful smile as she closed the passenger side door.

“Best of luck.” Carl waved before pulling into the flow of traffic.

Baker's Valley was a small town surrounded by lush forest and several lakes. It was the kind of town Hallmark chick flick movies were set in, with a cafe and a bookstore down the street from the courthouse. Festival banners snapped in a light, spring breeze.

“Let's call Ottawa and get a recovery team for the pilot.” Meg laid out the plan. Fraser just nodded, content to follow her lead.

The Mountie walked up to the two story brick building, mounting the stairs, eager to get back to normal. A young sheriff's deputy sat behind the desk in the marble tiled lobby.

“How can I help you folks?” He greeted them, looking the strangers over carefully but still smiling. Meg gave Fraser a look that told her she'd handle it.

“Inspector Margaret Thatcher, RCMP, currently assigned as Liaison Officer with the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, Illinois.” Meg began.

“You're a long way from home.” The deputy chuckled.

“We were on a plane to Ottawa when it experienced engine trouble, we crashed into a nearby lake.” Fraser expounded. “We then walked for over thirty hours until we came to Swift's abandoned diamond mine where we spent the night.” Meg flashed him a warning glare before he could go into detail about them sleeping spooned in front of the fire.

“Could we possibly call our superiors in Ottawa, or at least our consulate in Chicago.” Meg re-directed.

“I don't know about all the way to Ottawa, but Chicago, sure.” The deputy handed Meg the phone from behind the desk. “Here you go, Ma'am.”

“Thank you kindly.” Meg began dialing the consulate. She dreaded having to talk to Constable Turnbull.

After nearly half an hour of explaining herself, Inspector Thatcher finally got Turnbull to understand that they were in a little town called Baker's Valley and that he needed to call headquarters in Ottawa. She felt like she'd worked all day after hanging up.

“He called Detective Vecchio, he'll pick us up in the morning.” Meg relayed to Fraser.

“You won't find a hotel room for miles, what with Founder's Day going on.” The deputy said with a thoughtful twist to his mouth.

“Do you have any suggestions, Deputy?” Meg asked, annoyed and hungry. Her stomach growled loudly as she waited for him to answer.

“I believe Carl has a spare room, he may let you bunk there until morning.” The deputy shrugged.

“Carl, who has a Jeep and a coon dog named 'George' ?” Meg asked.

“Yeah, that's him.” The young deputy nodded.

“He's the one who helped us get to Bake's Valley this morning, why didn't he tell us?” Meg turned to Ben.

“Would you happen to have Carl's number?” Fraser asked.

“Let me call him for you, I've know Carl my whole life.” The deputy offered. The Mounties nodded in unison.

“Hello, Carl, I've got these two Canadians you brought to town this morning, I was wondering if they could borrow your fishing cabin for the night?” That really made Meg give Fraser a wide eyed look.

“A fishing cabin?” She mouthed. Fraser looked at her blankly. What was wrong with a fishing cabin?

“Alright, I'll send them to Dinah's Cafe until you can get back to town.” The deputy hung up.

“Right as rain.” He smiled, pleased with himself.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser nodded.

“You're welcome, now, let's go to Dinah's.” The deputy waved them toward the door. Fraser and Meg followed him half a block through a crowd of people carrying funnel cake, some of them with their faces painted. Children ran ahead of slowly milling adults. People watched the strangers pass by with curiosity and friendliness.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time.” Fraser commented as a little boy about four years old waved at him.

“Yeah, but why does fun have to smell like sour grease and frying meat?” Meg wrinkled her nose as they passed a vending booth. Fraser smirked.

Dinah's Cafe didn't have much on the outside to set it apart from a thousand other restaurants in the country. Once inside everything set it apart. The place smelled of baking bread, apple turnovers and coffee.

“Hello, welcome to Baker's Valley. Are you enjoying Founder's Day?” A bright, young waitress with a name tag proclaiming, 'Tina', as her name.

“Could we get a table please?” Meg cut her off, her stomach taking a bite out of her back bone.

“Right this way.” Tina ushered them through the packed space to a table in the back.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” Meg answered eagerly. Fraser saw the zest in her eyes. A few minutes later they were drinking coffee and giving Tina their orders.

“I'll be glad to return to Chicago in the morning.” Meg leaned back against the brown, leather booth's bench seat.

“Yes, I can only imagine what Diefenbaker has begged Ray to eat.” The Mountie shook his head.

“He is a terrible beggar.” Meg agreed with a smile.

“I thought he'd left you alone.” Fraser's eyes widened.

“He still slips into my office every great once and a while.” Meg thought back to the last time the begging half wolf had slipped into her office. She'd been eating a sausage biscuit. Not that she'd tell Fraser, but she'd given him half of the mild sausage patty.

“I'll have a word with him when I get back.” The Mountie saw Meg roll her eyes as the waitress brought them their breakfast orders. Meg had ordered scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy with an apple turnover. Fraser had ordered the steak and potatoes platter with fried potatoes, gravy, biscuits and an apple turnover. They both dug into their plates, ceasing their conversation.

“That was the best meal I've had in a while.” Fraser pushed his plate back and leaned back.

“I was famished.” Meg had wiped her plate clean. She coughed, her chest sounding congested.

“The deputy called and said you needed a place for the night.” Carl strode up behind them.

“Yes, if it isn't too much trouble.” Meg said as she sipped her coffee.

“My daughter and grandsons are in for the festivities, but my fishing cabin is empty. You're welcome to it.” Carl offered.

“Thank you very much.” Meg stood up and grabbed the check before Fraser could. She saw confusion cross his face a moment before his usual, professional mask went up.

After paying the tab, the Mounties followed Carl to his Jeep. A few minutes later they pulled up to a big, white Victorian beside a huge pond that disappeared around a small knoll. It was something out of a calendar page, tender, green leaves emerging in the spring sunshine.

“This is lovely.” Meg breathed as she got out of the vehicle.

“Thank you. It's been in the family for four generations now.” Carl's chest puffed up a bit. “The cabin is just around that knoll. There's a cast iron stove and I just put a chord of wood outside in the wood box last week. You'll be fine.” Carl pointed out toward the knoll. He escorted the two Mounties to the small cabin. It wasn't much smaller than the cabin they'd spent the previous night in but it was much more snug. The pine walls were painted and two windows looked down at the pond below.

“Come on down to the house after you've settled in for lunch.” Carl stepped out into the morning sunshine and left the Canadians alone.

“I hope this cabin is warmer than the last one.” Meg sighed as she looked at the one, roll away cot in the corner.

“Yes, if the weather is clear temperatures will dip below freezing.” Fraser peered out the window at the clouds overhead. There wasn't a fluffy dumpling cloud to be found.

“Lovely.” Meg shook her head. A sneeze rattled her to the bone. The lady Mountie had been feeling under the weather all morning but dismissed it as being tired.

“Bless you, Inspector.” Fraser said over his shoulder.

“Whew, thank you. I don't know where that came from.” Meg shook her head.

_**After supper …** _

Meg spread Ben's sleeping bag out on the roll away cot near the heating stove. She felt like someone had ran over her with a steam roller. Her bones ached and her head felt stuffy.

“Would you like anything before dark, Sir?” Fraser had been keeping an eye on her since the night before. He noticed her lack of energy and listlessness.

“No, I just want to get to sleep.” Meg kicked off her loafers and nestled down into the warm flannel with a tired sigh.

Ben settled down on his pallet near the heating stove and relaxed. It wasn't ten minutes later that he heard Meg's breathing regulate. The Mountie let his mind wander back to the previous day and what had happened in the mud wallow. He dozed off remembering how Meg's kiss had tasted.

_**Somewhere Past Midnight ….** _

Ben woke up to the sound of Meg talking in her sleep. The Mountie pushed off the blanket and went to kneel down beside her. Gently, he laid one, cool hand against her forehead. She felt feverish.

“You've taken a chill.” He laid the back of his hand against her cheek. It felt wonderful against her skin.

“Nonsense, it's just cold. I'm fine, Constable.” Meg waved his concern away. She thought herself too tough to get a silly chill.

“Inspector, you've been pushing hard the last few days, what with a crash landing in the lake, walking for over thirty hours, camping outside at night and hardly eating. I'm afraid it's taxed your immune system.” Fraser persisted.

“I'm fine, Fraser, I'm as healthy as a horse.” Meg sat up. “It's just a temperature drop because of the cold rain last night.” She pursed her lips as she stared into his eyes.

“I'm not cold, Inspector.” He said flatly. She would have argued with him but she began to feel dizzy.

“Perhaps you're right, Fraser.” Meg ceded as she laid back down on the cot.

“I should go to the house and have Carl call an ambulance.” Fraser started to stand up but Meg laid a desperate hand on his arm.

“Fraser, don't be gone long.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide in fear.

“I won't be.” Ben took her hand in both of his and gave her a reassuring smile before he left.

“Carl, it's Constable Fraser, it's urgent.” Ben said as he heard heavy foot steps in the entrance to the big Victorian. The door flew open and the retired teacher peered at him with one eye open.

“What's going on, Constable, it's one o'clock in the morning.” Carl tied the belt on his terry cloth robe as Fraser stepped into the house.

“Inspector Thatcher has taken a chill, she's running a fever.” Fraser explained hastily.

“Dad, have him bring her into the house, I'll call dispatch.” Lydia, Carl's grown daughter said from the stairwell.

“I'll go help.” Carl closed the door behind him. Quickly, he shoved his feet into a pair of boots drying on the front porch. It was bitterly cold out and there was a frost on the ground. It clung to his pajama legs in cold, wet clumps.

When they got to the fishing cabin Meg had sat up on the cot and had put her shoes on. She wore Ben's flannel shirt beneath her coat. Carl gave Ben a concerned look before he went to look at her for himself.

“How are you feeling, Inspector Thatcher?” The old teacher asked as he squatted down.

“Not so well.” She shrugged.

“Do you think you can make it to the house?” He asked, his voice cheerful, trying to sound persuasive.

“Do you think you can?” She flipped the question back at him sarcastically.

“She'll be alright, I assure you.” Fraser looked at the older man apologetically.

“You help her and I'll get your things.” Carl offered. Fraser helped Meg to stand up but two steps later he had to scoop her up and carry her.

“I can walk, Constable Fraser, I've been doing it just fine for over thirty years.” Meg fussed as she put one arm around the back of his neck.

“Yes, Inspector, but this is more efficient.” He answered as he navigated the descent through slick grass.

“I see your point, Constable.” Meg leaned her head against his.

Lydia stood waiting for the two Canadians and her father in the entrance hall, a worried look on her face.

“The ambulance won't be able to come, flooding took out the bridge between here and Baker's Valley.” She said as Carl lead them up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Do you happen to have any rubbing alcohol?” Fraser asked as he gently laid her in the rumpled queen size bed.

“Yeah, in the medicine cabinet, Lydia, honey, see if you can find it.” Carl sent her toward the bathroom.

“Help me get her out of this coat and shirt.” Fraser began peeling Meg's outer layers off. She fought them when it came time to take the red, flannel shirt away.

“No, it smells like Fraser.” She whined. Both men exchanged glances then let her have the shirt.

“Should I make some broth or something?” Lydia returned with the rubbing alcohol and two wash cloths as well as a ceramic wash basin.

“Make some of the hot toddy like your mother used to when I would get the flu.” Carl smiled. He didn't know if the toddy made him feel better because of the herbs in it or the two fingers of whiskey they were in. “I haven't got any aspirin or anything in the house that would help.”

“May I ask what the ingredients are?” Fraser pulled his Carhart coat off and laid it in an arm chair in the corner.

“Oh, honey, lemon juice, a nip of whiskey.” Carl answered, a look of complete innocence on his features. Fraser looked from the old teacher to Meg lying on the bed. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and might even make her rest easier. The Mountie didn't say another word, he simply unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up. Gently, Ben began bathing Meg's face and neck with a wash cloth drenched in rubbing alcohol.

“Here you go. If you'll raise her up I'll help her drink it.” Lydia brought a steaming mug to the side of the bed opposite Fraser. She coughed when the first drink hit the back of her throat.

“What is that stuff?” Meg opened her eyes.

“Something that will make you feel better.” Lydia answered before Fraser could. Together they got the Inspector to drink almost half of the concoction.

“I'd better get some sleep, I've got a car show and a pie eating contest to judge tomorrow.” Lydia stood up when it was clear that Meg wasn't going to drink anymore.

“See you in the morning, Sweetie.” Carl hugged his daughter before she left.

“I'll tend to her if you'd like to get some sleep as well, Carl.” Fraser told the older man whose eyes were drooping.

“I'll be up sometime to check on you.” Carl shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him. A single, bedside lamp illuminated a small, dim area around the head of the bed as Fraser sat on the side bathing Meg's brow and neck. She seemed to be resting more comfortably since drinking the hot toddy. With the red, flannel shirt spread over her, Meg looked very pale and peaceful.

“You try to act invincible, but we both know that you have a heart.” He whispered as he moved an errant strand of her dark hair away from her face. “You remind me of who I really am beneath the uniform. You expect nothing less than my best.” Softly, Ben pressed a kiss against her forehead.

A few hours later Carl shuffled into the bedroom to see Fraser sitting beside Meg, his head leaned up on the headboard, both of them asleep. The Mountie held a wash cloth in his hand near the right side of Meg's face. It was an endearing sight. Carl didn't know the two, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that they had a complicated but dedicated relationship. Quietly, he shuffled back down to the living room to sleep on the couch.

_**The Next Morning ….** _

Meg woke up with a start. She didn't recognize her surroundings. Sitting up, the first thing she saw was Ben's flannel shirt laid over her. From down stairs the smell of coffee tip toed toward her. It smelled like heaven. Turning, Meg saw Ben seated on the bed beside her, a wash cloth still clutched in his hand and a bottle of rubbing alcohol on his lap. As soon as she tried to step out of bed her head began to swim. Meg sat down on the bed, squeaking the bed springs.

“Inspector, you're awake.” Fraser jerked awake when he heard the springs protest.

“Good morning, Constable.” Meg greeted him, holding her head in her hands. Fraser rounded the bed to check on her. He laid a calloused hand on her forehead as he peered intently into her dark eyes.

“Your fever has broken, good.” He felt relieved. “Shall I bring a tray up to you?” He stood from his squatted position in front of her.

“Thank you, Fraser, but I can manage.” Meg sat up straight. She tried to stand but weak once more, she sat back down on the bed again.

“I should probably rest.” Meg climbed back into the bed. Ben simply nodded.

“Good morning you two.” Carl walked into the room fully dressed and looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Bacon, eggs and coffee are waiting downstairs.”

“Good morning.” Fraser greeted.

“Ah, coffee.” Meg perked up. Ben took that as his cue to go downstairs. Carl watched him walk out. When he was gone the retired teacher took a seat in the arm chair in the corner. He watched the lady Mountie for a moment before he spoke.

“That young man is very devoted to you.” Carl arched a graying brow as he studied Meg's reaction.

“Constable Fraser is an excellent officer. He's well know for helping those in need.” Meg replied crisply.

“Did you know that he sat up with you all last night? I came in here to check on you a few hours ago and he was asleep sitting up against the headboard.” The old man's eyes danced mischievously.

“Constable Fraser would have done it for anyone.” Meg narrowed her gaze at the man, knowing full and well what he was driving at.

“I see, is that why you're wearing his shirt like a high school letter man jacket?” Carl persisted.

“Oh, nonsense.” Meg looked away, uncomfortable.

“Breakfast, I hope you like oatmeal and apple butter.” Fraser interrupted, much to Meg's relief.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg sat up straighter and allowed the Mountie to set a tray of food down beside her. He took a second plate for himself piled high with buttermilk biscuits, gravy, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs and a dollop of apple butter.

“I've got to get my own breakfast before my grandsons eat it all.” Carl stood up to leave.

“You get all that and I get oatmeal?” Meg frowned at him. She'd been shafted in the breakfast department.

“Would you like me to prepare you a different plate, Sir?” Fraser set his plate on the night stand beside the bed and reached for Meg's bowl of oatmeal. Meg winced but shook her head. At least she had coffee.

“No, this will be fine, Constable Fraser, thank you for offering.” Meg sat back and began eating. She mixed butter, a bit of milk and sugar in her oatmeal to flavor it. With the apple butter it tasted wonderful and cinnamon-y.

“Constable Fraser, there's a Chicago Detective down here asking for you.” Carl called from the foot of the stairs as the Mounties finished their meal.

“Ray's arrived.” Fraser looked out the window at the classic, emerald green Buick in the front drive.

“I'll take our dishes down while you freshen up.” The Mountie took Meg's empty tray, a gloominess coming over him. If Meg hadn't seen him day in and day out she wouldn't have seen the light dim in his green eyes.

“Hey, Benny, only you can live through two plane crashes in one lifetime.” Ray's lightly Italian accent carried up the stairs. Meg heard Fraser's voice in reply but not really his words.

A few minutes later the Mountie returned to the upstairs bedroom. Meg saw the pleasant, cheerful mask on his face that he wore all too often.

“Shall we leave, Sir?” Fraser asked, seeing that she had gathered her things into her overnight bag.

“Fraser, sit down a moment, please.” Meg sat up on the bed, her eyes were clear and bright. Fraser was glad to see she felt better. He slowly took a seat in the arm chair across from her.

“About what happened day before yesterday ...” Meg began but Ben raised one hand, his expression tense.

“I understand, it's already forgotten.” He crossed his arms over his chest before he looked away.

“Is it, Fraser?” Meg asked pointedly, her voice quiet but crystal clear. Fraser didn't answer at first, he ran his thumb nail over his eye brow then fixed her with a gaze mixed with confusion and pain.

“Is there any other way for things to be between us?” Ben leaned forward in the chair, his eyes locked on Meg's.

“Do you want to find out, Fraser?” She answered him with a question of her own.

“Do you?” He countered, taking a defensive air creeping up.

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't.” Meg thought back to Carl's words. Would Fraser have tended to anyone the way he always did for her? She had to know.

“I'll have to think about it, we both know the consequences.”

Meg didn't know what to say to that. Regulations frowned upon fraternization between them. They both had a lot to lose by making the wrong choice, should Ottawa find out. All Meg knew for certain was that she didn't want to live in limbo any longer.

“I'm willing if you are, Fraser.” Meg sighed, tired to the bone with the whole thing.

“Hey, Benny, we leavin' or what?” Ray said as he walked down the hall toward them. When he poked his head into the bedroom he saw the tired and tense looks on both Ben and Meg's faces.

“How did you get through this morning, Detective Vecchio, I thought that a bridge had been washed out between here and Baker's Valley.” Meg asked to change the subject.

“I took the long way around.” Ray shrugged nonchalantly.

“Thank you for coming for us, Detective.” Meg stood up, holding onto the waist high bed stead for support. Fraser stood up to offer his arm but Meg shook her head. The Mountie took the bags and headed out to the Buick.

_**Chicago …** _

Meg went to the emergency room when they arrived in Chicago. The ER doctor prescribed her a strong antibiotic and plenty of rest and liquids. Other than the flu, the doctor said she was fine. Meg went back to the consulate the next day.

Fraser walked by the Inspector's office on his way to his office down the hallway. He saw her sitting behind her desk, her forehead leaned on her palm as she read. Ben thought for a split second about stopping and asking her if she were feeling better but thought better of it. If Meg didn't feel better she wouldn't be back to work so soon. He lengthened his stride and walked on past the door.

“Constable Fraser.” He heard Meg's hoarse voice clearly. Ben stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Yes, Inspector.” He said as he neared her desk.

“Close the door, please, Constable.” She sounded all business to the Mountie. He expected her to send him on an errand or give him an order of some kind. Ben shut the door and came to stand at his usual spot before her desk. Looking up, Meg met Ben's inquisitive gaze.

“Was there something you needed, Inspector?” Ben asked, his hands clasped behind his back as he stood at parade rest.

“Have you thought about what we discussed yesterday?” She still sounded all business, not at all like she was talking about a matter of the heart. Meg narrowed her gaze at him as he hesitated to answer.

“I have, yes.” Ben answered, taking a deep breath.

“And your answer, Constable.” Meg said a bit more softly. Her heart sped up in her chest as she waited for Ben to either break her heart or give her a chance. Ben looked at her steadily, his tongue toying with his eye tooth. That's what got her into this mess in the first place.

“I chose to proceed with utmost caution.”

Meg looked at him, confused as hell. “So, you want to see where this takes us then?” She stood up, her heart soaring.

“Yes.” Ben smiled. It had been a long, nearly sleepless night while his mind turned the matter over from every angle. Meg rounded the desk, a smile spreading across her face. She was beautiful and glowing, like the Northern Lights of home.

“Do you think we'll finish what we started in that mud wallow, Fraser?” Meg asked, leaning against the front of her desk beside him.

“Yes, when the time is right.” He answered, searching her eyes, studying her features in the low light of the lamp on her desk.

“I don't regret what happened, but I do wish it hadn't conflicted you the way it did.” Meg's tone became serious.

“Conflict makes a man take a long, hard look at himself and his convictions. Without conflict he wouldn't know himself as well as he would with it.” Ben answered. He still had a lot of things on his mind when it came to him and Meg, but he knew that if he didn't give this a chance he'd regret it later.

“Will you walk me home, Benton?” Meg asked, standing up.

“It would be my pleasure, Margaret.” He saw her wince at her full first name. “Meg?” Ben corrected himself. She gave him an approving smile.

Arm in arm, the pair closed down the consulate for the night an walked onto the Windy City's streets.

“Do you think anyone would mind if we borrowed Swift's cabin for a vacation spot?” Fraser asked out of the blue.

“Oh no, you aren't leaving Chicago any time soon, every time you do, something bad happens.” Meg warned him.

“I don't think a third plane crash is likely to happen.” Fraser answered. They continued to banter back and forth the whole way to Meg's apartment.

**The End**

 


End file.
